Alison will be back next week with part two of her ‘Rest. Why is doing nothing so hard?’ In the meantime, feel free to check out her blog, which is all about creativity. I love it!
We all know parenting is hard. Rewarding, yes. But definitely hard.
Today we said goodbye to our 21 year old, who, after just six months back with us after being in Canberra for four years, has now moved to Sydney on a one-way plane ticket.
He has always dreamed big, this boy of ours, and I suspect Sydney will be just one of many stops along the way to where he will eventually end up (I tried to get him to sign a contract stating that when the time came for grandbabies, he would move back to Brisbane, but he wouldn’t sign it, funnily enough!).
My husband and I have always encouraged our children to dream, and more than that, to chase their dreams down and catch them.
It’s risky, though. You pour your heart and soul into your children, give them your best years, cry over them, sacrifice for them, pick them up and dust them off, believe in them, help them believe in themselves.
And what do you get?
You get a confident, self-reliant, independent, strong, courageous person who up and leaves you!!
The tears I have shed since he found out four days ago that he got the job and started immediately, have been, I must confess, entirely selfish.
I know that he will be fine, that he will find his way, experience great adventures, learn heaps about himself and the world and grow in character and strength.
It’s not actually him I’m worried about. It’s me.
My poor mothers heart sometimes wishes we were more the type of parents to encourage our children to get nice, quiet, stable jobs and live two doors up from us. That way, maybe he would still be here, keen to come to each week for a Sunday roast and bring a load of washing over for me to do.
But, alack and alas, ’tis not the case and he has flown off into the wild blue yonder, without me.
I know that he is happy, that he is excited, that this is what he wants. But right now, right this minute….I’m sad he’s gone and I will miss him more than words can say. And knowing I have been a good parent means squat.
Now. Somebody pass me another box of tissues and another glass of wine, I’ve got a pity party to get to.